The Middle East shook—and the tremors were felt far beyond the region: in oil prices, in freight rates for liquefied petroleum gas, and in the jittery reactions of markets from Tokyo to Frankfurt.
On February 28, 2026, the U.S. Central Command launched Operation ‘Epic Fury’. The name was meant to be symbolic—and in the end it proved accurate, though not quite in the way its authors intended.
Just one hundred hours after the opening strikes, reports began surfacing about ammunition shortages and emergency meetings at the White House with leaders of the defence industry. Days later, the goals of the operation were quietly adjusted. The world’s leading military power had launched a major combat operation—only for it to become clear within a week that even the word “plan” was perhaps too generous for what was unfolding. But before analysing the operation itself, there is a question that is uncomfortable to ask aloud.
Iran’s Islamic Republic regime is an absolute evil. It is a theocratic dictatorship that abuses, guns down and hangs its own citizens; supplies Shahed drones used to destroy Ukrainian civilian infrastructure, and has spent decades financing regional terrorists. Facts, plain and simple.
But Iran did not formally launch an attack on itself. The country is home to 90 million people — most of whom despise their own government no less than we do. Who in this room is willing to say that out loud? Not to defend the bloodthirsty ayatollahs, but to prevent Beijing and Moscow from seizing a ready-made narrative they could exploit for years. Call it the Maduro dilemma — only on an Iranian scale. And this time, the scale is entirely different.
But that is not even the most important point. The operation in Iran is not the cause of the new global disorder. It is simply its loudest symptom—at least for now.
Operation without strategy
To understand what is happening, you first need the right diagnosis — not just a description of symptoms. We are living through an interregnum, a moment between systems: the old one no longer works, and the new one has yet to take shape. Pax Americana rested not only on American military power but also on Washington’s willingness to bear the costs of acting as the system’s guarantor in exchange for structural advantages. Donald Trump rejected that logic not out of ideology. The problem is simpler: the American voter no longer wants to pay for it. Trump sensed this — and monetised it. The result is a hegemon without obligations, one of the most dangerous constructions in modern international relations.
The stated objectives of the operation are worth quoting: to destroy Iran’s missiles and missile industry; to completely eliminate its navy; to neutralise proxy forces in Iraq; and to permanently deprive Iran of nuclear weapons. Four goals — each unattainable without one condition: regime change in Tehran. Ayatollah Khamenei is dead, and much of the state leadership appears to be as well. But is that enough? If the nature of the state does not change, it will rebuild its missile arsenal, its proxy networks and its nuclear programme. The pace of recovery is a question of resources. Resources are a question of time. That is not an analytical conclusion. It is simply formal logic. Iran is a country with a thousand-year-old Persian identity and its own technical and intellectual elite. The day after any proclaimed “victory” would bring a far greater level of uncertainty.
Trump does not want to utter the words “regime change.” But without it, the declared goals are impossible to achieve in any lasting way. Everything else amounts to temporary measures — and after them, the next round inevitably follows. The phases of the operation are clear enough: the destruction of air defences, the navy, and missile production. But tactics without a strategic end state are not a plan. It is a task list.
There is another symptom of the same trap. American commanders at various levels appear excessively focused on the president’s reaction — more so than on the execution of combat missions. It is a form of manual control that kills initiative and flexibility — a phenomenon we know well from the other side of the front line. The chaotic character of the Iranian operation is a systemic consequence of a certain style of decision-making. And that style leads directly to the next question.
Trump and Putin: one archetype
Most commentators avoid the following comparison because it’s provocative — but it’s an accurate one. Trump and Putin differ in scale, resources, and geopolitical context. Yet they share a crucial trait: both want to be remembered in history, both are willing to take major risks to get there, and for both, the loyalty of those around them often outweighs strategic calculation.
The Roman Republic in the time of Caesar and Sulla had a similar dynamic. The Republic was still strong, its institutions formally functioning, but internal players began using external wars for domestic consolidation. Caesar’s Gallic campaign was not only about conquest; it was also a source of resources, fame and money for resolving political struggles at home.
The strikes on the Islamic Republic are, among other things, about domestic American politics. About what to hand oneself for an 80th birthday in June, what to put on the table for the United States’ 250th anniversary in July, how to distract from the Epstein case. A victory photo in front of a fallen regime is a long-standing political ritual. The only question is where the next “theatre” will be if Iran drags on. Cuba in the Western Hemisphere — long treated as America’s backyard under the Monroe Doctrine. Or Greenland again — the island’s still there, and so is the appetite. At the Munich Security Conference, Denmark’s prime minister made it clear: this isn’t off the table.
And it’s exactly this logic — where personal ambition beats strategy — that explains what’s happening to alliances right now.
Collapse of alliances
Iran is a member of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO). The United States and Israel strike it — and the SCO remains silent. No collective defence mechanism, no statement of solidarity. Only a shared anti-American posture in peacetime, which evaporates the moment action is required.
Turkey, meanwhile, is a member of NATO. Iranian missiles are striking its territory. NATO, too, remains silent — though for different reasons. The Alliance simply does not know how to respond. It seems necessary to react, but how? At a critical moment, both organisations have revealed themselves as little more than window dressing. NATO, once again, is showing signs of its own crisis.
Trump’s Greenland provocation in early 2026 proved more revealing than any Iranian escapade. When one alliance member openly pressures another and threatens economic consequences for showing solidarity, the very logic of collective defence begins to unravel. Formally, the documents remain in force. In practice, at decisive moments, the alliance behaves less like a system of mutual guarantees and more like a club with unstable membership and shifting rules.
Traditional alliances are no longer the framework for decision-making. Instead, each state increasingly calculates its own interests, case by case.
Turkey is under attack on its own territory. Azerbaijan is also being hit — in Nakhchivan, its exclave bordering directly on Turkey. Erdoğan has been handed a pretext he may not have been looking for, but one he can now use. The strikes on Nakhchivan are either a sign of Tehran’s strategic blindness or a deliberate decision to expand its circle of enemies to the point of no return. Either way, the outcome is the same: Ankara and Baku now have both a formal casus belli and a clear strategic interest — in one package.
The attack on the Islamic Republic opens new possibilities for Erdoğan — a corridor of influence stretching from the Bosphorus to the Caspian, bypassing both Russia and Iran at once. There is another detail that rarely features in the discussion: roughly a third of Iran’s population are ethnic Azeris. Large territories, unique identity, a living memory. If the regime falls, could the potential secession of Iranian Azerbaijan erupt with a force far harder to manage than it seems today? That would represent a far more dangerous shift in the regional map than any Kurdish scenario the United States has ever contemplated.
In the end, political alliances between states are no longer an obligation. They have become an option — invoked when convenient and postponed when they are not. Russia’s reaction to cries of help from Iran — or rather its complete indifference and cynicism — is very telling. What we are witnessing is a shift toward a system of situational coalitions. Or, to put it bluntly, something closer to Hobbes’ Leviathan: every state for itself, and agreements temporary by definition.
Axis that did not exist
The “Axis of Resistance,” the “Axis of Evil” — the name depended on who was speaking and why. But the reality — Russia, Iran, China, and North Korea as a supposed bloc — proved far less monolithic than public statements suggested.
The Iranian operation triggered a response quickly. Moscow offered no real assistance — just as it had with Maduro in January. Pyongyang stayed out as well. China expressed “concern” while continuing to monitor shipping through the Strait of Hormuz. When the crisis hit, everyone was essentially on their own.
There was certainly interaction — Shahed drones, technology, sanctions evasion. But each gave and took only what aligned with its own interests at that moment. There were no genuine allied obligations. The common position toward external audiences masked the absence of a real alliance. Strategic partnership documents are worth only as much as the power behind them. If they rest solely on shared hostility toward Washington, they are nothing more than paper.
The disintegration of the ‘axis’ occurs alongside general chaos and is part of it, not a coincidence.
Chaos, the new norm
Sporadic escalations are not failures of the system — they are the system itself. And they benefit certain players far more than a predictable order ever could.
Chaos paralyses those used to rules. Democratic systems are structurally slow: consensus, procedures and coordination. By the time Brussels agrees on a position, the decision has already been made. While Congress debates, the operation is already underway. In this system, time itself is a weapon. Sporadic escalations keep everyone on the defensive, reacting to the last signal instead of planning for the long term or crafting a coherent crisis strategy.
International law expert Roman Son writes: “There was no Security Council resolution to legitimise the use of force. After its discreditation, that authority [UN General Assembly – ed.] no longer exists. There was not even a General Assembly resolution. The UNGA did not recognise any grounds for Israel’s self-defence, as a victim of aggression.” If Israel and the United States had involved Ukraine as an ally in their attack and declared that it was part of Ukraine’s collective self-defence, and because Iran, in violation of international law, was supplying Russia with weapons used as instruments of genocide, this could somehow have been accommodated within the framework of international law. Although, to be fair, it should be noted that simply supplying weapons to Russia does not make Iran a party to the war, so even such collective self-defence would be contested by some countries.
The chaos will not stop, but will only gain momentum. And in these conditions, large multilateral structures will finally lose their meaning.
Decline of multilateralism
The unreformed UN calls for dialogue. The SCO is bewildered. The EU speaks, but as always, says all the wrong things — and in 27 different voices. International law restrains neither action nor ambition.
This is not a sudden crisis of international institutions, but the logical outcome of a process that has been unfolding for years. When Russia occupied Crimea without facing real consequences, it became clear that the UN Charter was archival, not authoritative. And when Trump struck Syria one evening in his first term and resumed negotiations with Moscow the next, it became clear that consistency was optional.
All that remains now is to acknowledge what has long been true: in international relations, only power and immediate national interests matter. Multilateral instruments are theatrical props — invoked when convenient and ignored when not. This is a return to the pre-1945 world, only now with nuclear arsenals and global markets.
It is precisely in this vacuum — where rules are devalued, alliances are situational, and the hegemon acts without strategy — that space opens for a new actor.
Macedonian moment
After the Peloponnesian War, Sparta emerged victorious — but it couldn’t, and didn’t want to, take on Athens’ role of supporting trade, keeping order, and serving as the arbiter of disputes. What followed were two decades of chaos, with alliances constantly shifting and cities switching sides depending on which way the wind blew. This instability lasted until Macedonia arrived from the periphery. A player of a different scale and logic, one who did not follow the rules of the old system because he had grown up outside it. Philip and Alexander did not resolve the rivalry between Athens and Sparta. They arrived when both were exhausted — and introduced a fundamentally new framework.
Who Macedonia is today is almost a rhetorical question. Beijing isn’t sending open military support to any of the current conflicts and doesn’t publicly take sides. Instead, it calculates, moves quietly, and expands its presence wherever a vacuum appears. One Belt, One Road operates where the West has stepped back. The yuan moves into spaces where the dollar weakens under sanctions. Technological infrastructure emerges where American credibility has been undermined. Confucius Institutes appear where USAID has retreated.
If the U.S. gets bogged down in a prolonged war in Iran, Beijing gains years to quietly reshape the region without facing serious American resistance. If the U.S. pulls out quickly with a so-called “victory,” China will be first in line to rebuild Iran’s economy on its own terms. Either way, Beijing comes out stronger.
China is waiting — not to attack, but to make an offer: a new framework, new rules, a new order, with itself at the centre.
The outcome is clear — and that doesn’t make it any easier.
Narrow window
For Ukraine, this configuration presents a very specific, time-sensitive task. While Washington focuses on the Persian Gulf, Europe is forced to confront its own security on its own terms. And when Berlin and Paris focus on their security, they are thinking about Russia — about our theatre. This is a structural reality that must be seized quickly and without sentiment. We have the experience and the cool heads; we are the adults in the room, and it falls to us to explain to Europeans, clearly and calmly, why they should take the lead.
But there is a deadline. Trump will declare victory in Iran — regardless of the actual outcome, because he needs a triumphant moment. After that, he will want to turn it into a big deal. Traditionally, we will be the currency in that deal. If we do not secure our best positions by then, the deal will be made with our participation, but without our consent.
For Europe, this is a moment for decisive action alongside Ukraine. Russia’s genocide against Ukraine is both a war in Europe and a war of Europe. A joint victory offers a chance for real agency in the new world — an opportunity to sit at the table, not on the menu.
Closing thoughts
A Leviathan without rules does not mean eternal anarchy — it signals the birth of a new order. Painful, bloody, unpredictable. The question isn’t whether this order will emerge — it will, one way or another. The question is who survives, and what they bring to the table when the new order begins to take shape.
The Iranian operation is not the origin of the disorder, though it may seem that way at first glance. It is its most visible expression, for now the loudest. The next breaking point is already forming somewhere on the periphery. In a system without an arbiter, chaos will not pause — it will accelerate until exhaustion forces someone to propose a new framework.
Macedonia is waiting for its moment. The rest are simply trying to survive long enough to see what the new order will look like — and what they will bring when it arrives.
